


a psalm to the love that died

by youwillmakeitoutofthisalive



Series: Not even every sonnet Shakespeare has ever written could grasp this crazy life (this good old love), but here's an attempt [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: CapSeptender, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 06:31:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20701496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youwillmakeitoutofthisalive/pseuds/youwillmakeitoutofthisalive
Summary: Angels have no thoughtsOf ever returning youWould they be angryIf I thought of joining you?





	a psalm to the love that died

**Author's Note:**

> This is the story of Steve and Bucky, told as the ancient myth of Orpheus and Eurydice from the perspective of Hymen.

Once upon a time, from a beautiful melody and a sunlit heart, you were made.  
I was there. I saw it happen.  
and that’s when i knew, sooner or later, the universe would make him too.  
an arrow to the chest: from your bold champagne eyes to his, that’s all it took  
to get him drunk on the thought of you.  
you spent years falling over yourself to get him to catch you  
and there he was, waiting, his two good arms opened, always expecting.  
this is your story, or maybe it’s his.  
You are one and the same.  
but you know that already. I know, because you’ve told me so.  
He is said darkness, bled from the wound of an oak tree  
old as time and tiring still,  
crossing through treacherous swamps of words to get to you  
; and you,  
You are a wink from above, born full grown,  
flourished from the grass like a flower, no warning,  
Shining as the blinding midday sun.  
You open your mouth and music comes out.  
He was asleep before you could wake up,  
your voice being the lullaby that carries him home.  
There’s no other chance at life for either of you, but a shared one.  
It wasn’t long before you lost yourselves in each other,  
And oh, what a majestic scene to witness,  
that of two rivers that formed a lake  
for two lovers to lay in.  
I prophesized your happiness wouldn’t last long  
He told me, “it doesn’t matter  
I would take upon myself  
the weight of a lifetime of grieving the loss of this boy  
for just one second of his body radiating warmth beside me;  
and winter may be long, but he is my only summer”  
I told you, the higher you fly the harder you’ll fall  
you told me, “I only ever want to sing  
if he’s listening. The song of my life will run out  
the day that he leaves me”.  
Easier said than done.  
When winter came,  
when music stopped,  
your lover fell from the edge of the world and hit hard solid ground,  
and ever since then, you haven’t been able to get up.  
You asked me, “are we being punished?  
Were the gods jealous  
of this habit I had  
of worshiping his soul, his body, his mind?  
Is Zeus envious of the divine grace I have found looking into his eyes from below?  
Has Demeter learned that I kneeled, not in prayer, but in awe, before him?  
Did Aphrodite know I thought of him as the most beautiful being that has ever been born?  
Why shall I need blasphemous religion, on this forsaken earth, when I could watch him sleep at night and feel safe?  
Have atheists ever seen him smile? I swear, it should be holy homily, to contemplate him  
It must have taken an act of god to craft him  
from the slight curve of his lips to the tremor in his bones  
to the small of his back  
to the silk in his hair, and the fire in the loins  
and I loved every centimetre  
and I loved every centimetre  
and now he’s gone”  
He was taken away from you, so you took it all away.  
It was worthy of Gods and feared among men, what you did for him.  
when you sang your grief, the whole entire world listened,  
and everything that used to remain still was now moved,  
and both humans and deities wept in your wake,  
lowering their heads in shame, muttering their laughter  
not entitled to be happy in the face of such sorrow.  
The favour heaven had for you was such, my son,  
Such the trust we had in the great horizon you were destined for,  
that we laid down a veil of good omen over you  
and lent you one last chance.  
It was you, and not I, who faced death.  
So, tell me, my child, how did it feel?  
Any other mortal would have died, sailing through the changing tides of the dead sea,  
but it was the wind of your loved that gave you the impulse to finish your trip;  
across a valley of ghosts that threatened to steal all your light,  
and into the terrifying thickness of the night,  
how did you survive?  
The phantoms of the past tugged at your feet  
and your eyes darted away to an easier life  
but you kept looking forward  
until you saw him, standing in the doorway of the realms of death  
waiting for a cold breeze to push him to the other side;  
truth is, he was ready to die from the first time he saw you  
He knew he would have to.  
You could not encounter so much unfathomable glory in one lifetime, and live.  
He followed you, as a shadow, right behind you;  
all you had to do was look ahead  
hiking back over the walls of memory, fighting fiercely against the great upper hand of oblivion,  
daring to scream yourself mute in order to bring him back,  
laying down every colour of the rainbow before his eyes until he could dart from black and white,  
playing the same song, over and over again, forever, until he recognised it.  
But, of course, you couldn’t help it  
the fear was too great, the fear of him slipping away, gone again,  
a footstep or ten, silent in the sand of the underworld.  
Has he ever even loved me?  
Is there even a chance at being a full person again after being through hell and back?  
Can he handle the changing of seasons, the deep of the forest, the astounding brightness of sunlight, blinding?  
You look back.  
The funniest thing about this story, is that it should have ended well  
When love is enough, when bravery suffices,  
why is happiness not reached?  
You look back. And there he is, always expecting you, his two good arms opened, waiting for you.  
You want to share the sunlight with him, but he is barely a shadow still, and it breaks him into a million pieces.  
You look back, and he vanishes, slipping away from your fingers as cold cold water.  
All this travelling, from end to end of the world, for one last look. Now, you are finished.  
You never turn back around. There’s the last sound your throat will ever make; a desperate scream into the void that he left, and nothing else.  
There’s the last word he said, hanging in the silence between you and the place where he should be. The last word he said, a whisper; your name.  
_“Steve”_


End file.
